"Tim, have you a knife?" asked Jessy between shut teeth.
"The first man that touches him I'll kill!" cried Jessy.
Page [351].
The boy was trembling; but he did not give way. He pulled a little dirk from his belt.
"Yes; but I must defend you, Jessy; not you me. You have risked your life already. You must not do more. It is me they want—not you."
But the injured arm had no power to strike a blow. Jessy tenderly took the dirk from between the numbed fingers.
"Say your prayers, Tim, if you can remember any," said Jessy, between long breaths, "for we shan't easily get out of this alive."
"There they are—see them? The witch-wench and the boy? Ah, ha, my fine maid, you'll sing a more civil tune to-day I warrant. Give us over the boy, and maybe we'll let you off easy!"
"The first man that touches him I'll kill!" cried Jessy.